“That’s a huge risk, considering what’s happened so far.” Quinn stared out the window. “I don’t know if I can accept your offer.”

“You’ve already done so. I have a contract proving it.”

“I guaranteed a certificate of insurance as part of that agreement.”

Geneva lowered her cup to its saucer. “I choose to ignore that clause.”

One corner of Quinn’s mouth quirked in one of his fleeting half grins. “Makes me a bit hesitant to continue working with someone who can choose to ignore the fine print on a contract when it pleases her.”

Geneva relaxed back in her seat, enjoying their exchange in spite of the circumstances. “You should learn to take advantage of a weakness or an opportunity when it presents itself.”

“Maybe I’m hesitant to do that, too,” he said, “considering my history of being the party with the weaknesses and lost opportunities.”

“Misplaced honor, Mr. Quinn?”

“Just Quinn. And yes, I misplaced my honor a long time ago.”

They exchanged mild, understanding smiles as Missy brought their breakfasts. His troubles hadn’t diminished his appetite, Geneva was relieved to notice.

“I’ve asked my investigator to speak with Reed Oberman,” she said when Missy had left.

“What information does he have for the police?”

“Not much. But he does have a witness.”

“To the vandalism?”

“To some suspicious activity.” Geneva sipped her orange juice. “However, this witness isn’t the most reliable source. It’s the gentleman who spends so much of his time on the docks, fishing. Ed Morton.”

“I know Ed. He may be a little strange, but I’ve never known him to rant or hallucinate.” Quinn frowned. “Still, it doesn’t help our case when the only witness so far is known to most people in the Cove as Crazy Ed.”

“No, it doesn’t. But I’m inclined to believe Ed, considering the way the information was obtained.” Geneva glanced beyond Quinn’s shoulder at the rest of the room, checking to make sure she wouldn’t be overheard. “The investigator was very careful not to ask any leading questions. There wasn’t much Ed could tell him, but he did say he’s seen a blue truck near the site, late in the evening.”

“How late?”

“After midnight.”

“After midnight it’s too dark to tell what color a truck is,” Quinn pointed out.

“Ed said there’s a very distinctive sticker on the rear fender.” Geneva leaned forward. “Do you know of anyone who drives a blue pickup truck?”

“Yeah.” Quinn’s eyes narrowed. “I do.”

“Does this person have any motive for sabotaging Tidewaters?”

“I thought so, at first, but now…” Quinn shook his head. “The spill doesn’t fit. It doesn’t help him, not the way he was looking for help. And he’s not smart enough to figure out something like that on his own.”

“Are you saying he might have been responsible for the first two incidents?”

“I’ve never considered the damage to the backhoe to be anything other than criminal mischief. Guess I should reconsider.” He gave her a hard look. “But I’ve always had my own suspicions about how Ned got hurt.”

“I’ll arrange for you to meet with my investigator.”

Geneva chatted pleasantly with Missy for a few minutes when the young woman returned to ask if their breakfasts were satisfactory, and she chose to maintain the same conversational tone when Missy had left. “How is your daughter?” she asked Quinn.

“Looking forward to the start of summer vacation.” He forked up a piece of waffle. “Friday is the last day of school. I haven’t figured out yet what to do with her. She keeps insisting she’s old enough to stay by herself, and I know she’s right, but not in this case.”

“How old is she?”

“Ten.”

“Ah, yes. I recall that age. Too old for a babysitter, but not old enough to be without supervision for an extended period of time.” Geneva smiled. “Parenthood is never easy, particularly when it’s done alone.”

“My wife never complained,” he said.

Geneva admired his attempt at fairness. “Your ex-wife,” she clarified.

“Yes.”

“I heard she’s in Oregon.”

“That’s right.”

“And yet Rosie is with you.”

“It’s my turn.”

“To avoid complaining,” Geneva said as she lifted her tea for another sip.

“I’m lucky to have my daughter with me,” he said. “I intend to keep her.”

“In spite of the fine print?”

He leveled a bland gaze across the table, and Geneva knew she’d stepped into dangerous territory. “We were discussing,” she said, “the difficulties of keeping her supervised during the summer. Have you looked into any educational programs or camps?”

“No.”

“Have you asked Tess for help?”

His gaze sharpened. “Why would I ask her?”

“Because she might know of something,” Geneva said casually. “I understand she’s recently spent some time in the Adams Elementary School office.”

His face lit with amusement. “Yes, she has.”

“She seems quite fond of your daughter.”

The amusement faded. “I suppose so.”

“Have you asked her?”

“We don’t discuss Rosie.”

“Perhaps you should,” Geneva said. “My granddaughter may surprise you, Quinn.”

“She already has,” he said with an unreadable expression.

“Good.” Geneva lifted her napkin to her mouth. “I believe that’s all I wanted to discuss with you today. If you’ll excuse me…”

He rose as she exited the booth, and they exchanged polite goodbyes. She noticed, as she drove away, that he was still sitting in the booth, staring out the window.

The man had a great deal on his mind. Tess alone was enough to make any man sit and stare, pondering, for quite a long while.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

TESS GLANCED UP from her monitor when her little bell jangled shortly after lunch on Monday. Quinn strode toward her desk, dropped into one of her visitor’s chairs and stared at her floor.

“How bad is it?” she asked.

“Bad enough. There’s no way to know for sure.”

“What are you going to do?”

“How do you feel about a water feature in front of the building?”

“What kind of water feature?”

“A small lake.”

She swallowed, and she was sure she could actually feel her face pale beneath her carefully applied makeup. “That’s not in the budget,” she said.

“There is no budget.” He raised his eyes to hers. “This project is now officially out of control. And you and I both know there are forces at work behind the scenes trying to make sure this thing never gets resolved satisfactorily.”

“Cobb.”

“Among others.” Quinn shifted and settled more heavily in his chair. “He wasn’t the only one contesting the environmental impact report’s conclusions.”

“I’ll talk with Geneva and-”

“I’ve talked with her. I met with her this morning. For breakfast. And before you start giving me grief over that,” he said, raising his hand, “you told me you don’t do mornings.”

She closed her file and rolled the mouse precisely to the center of its pad. “I would have made an exception in this case.” Again.

“The thing is,” he said in his irritatingly reasonable tone, “you’ve already been paid the lion’s share of what you’ll make on this project. The design is done, bought and paid for. I’ve got a payroll to meet and men who are wondering when the next one will be. Your design isn’t the problem. Getting it built is mine.”

“Isn’t there some way to continue to work around the cleanup?” she asked.

“Not for a while. A week, maybe.”

“What will you do?”

He stood and paced to one of her models and stared down at it, his hands in his pockets. The winery, the one he’d admired. He’d surprised her, not so long ago, with his concise, spot-on summary of the heart of her design.

He looked so big, looming over her model, so strong and sure. She often forgot how many people were counting on him, how many responsibilities he bore on a daily basis. “Don’t you worry about me,” he said. “I can always find work.” He gave her a wry smile. “Men with tool belts are very popular.”